


Carved Out of Stone

by chasingthebooty



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bulimia, Cutting, Depression, Eating Disorders, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Starvation, Suicide, bulimic!Eren, but he's also pretty oblivious, eren's really depressed, levi's really smart, the smut isn't explicit in this, this is kinda sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 16:10:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4967530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingthebooty/pseuds/chasingthebooty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren's worst fear has always been the thought of him being a disappointment to others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carved Out of Stone

                It started out as just a fleeting thought, but now it’s turned into so much more.

                Suicide.

                It’s come to the point where he thinks it all the time, and sometimes he even thinks through _how_ he’d go about his death. He’s thought over all of the possibilities, all of the drinks he could poison himself with, all of the blood he could draw out of his arm, all of the guns just _dying_ to steal a life away, the buildings left incomplete without their share of heartbroken folk who jump from their roofs.

                It’s the direction that his mind wanders without warning, whether he’s curled up in bed with his arms around his stomach, or whether he’s in class, fingers twisted around a bitten up pencil. He has nervous habits, one of which is of course chewing on the bodies of his pencils, but others of which include biting his nails and his hands, scratching at his skin, idly pushing sharp objects into his limbs with the hopes of leaving a mark behind. He’s unsatisfied if an object proves unable to inflict a scar on him, it means that it must not have hurt him enough. It means that it didn’t _punish_ him enough.

                Eren has his reasons for wanting to die. He feels pathetic, he feels ugly, he feels useless, he feels utterly _lost._

                His grades in school, they reflect just how pathetic he is. They’re not high enough to make his mother smile when he shows her his report card. At the end of every grading period, he brings home a letter for his parents to look over, and he hands it over to his mother, pretending to be uninterested in her reaction when he’s really eyeing her closely and noting each twitch of her muscles. But his mother so rarely does like she used to when Eren would bring his report cards home in his elementary school years. Back then, she’d give his cheek a kiss, ruffle his hair, tell him how proud she was for him trying his hardest. He made low B’s and high C’s back then. But now, as he maintains those average grades, his mother looks at him with a soft face, the disappointment evident as she murmurs a, _“I know you can do better than this.”_

Eren’s ugly, so _painfully_ ugly, too. He’s almost afraid to look in mirrors anymore, knowing for sure that he’ll be disappointed with what he sees. He’s _always_ disappointed with what he sees. Every morning, he steps out of the shower, wraps a towel around his waist, and he clears off the door attached to the backside of his bathroom mirror, clearing off the steam from it. And then, he just _stands_ there, eyes searching out every flaw and finding more than they’d found just the day before. His arms, ripped apart by his bad habits; his hips, bony from the constant worry of not being beautiful enough; his skin, an awkward shade that is, without a doubt, undesirable to the wandering gazes of others; his eyebrows, too thick, though he’s never been able to figure out exactly what shape he’s _expected_ to have his eyebrows set in; his hair, messy and untamable - it’s all of these things, upon a million others, that aid his eyes in willing up enough tears to put him to sleep at night.

                He’s useless, though he knows that nobody else would ever admit it to him. His mother and father wouldn’t because they love him, but he knows from how his mother gives him sad looks and how his father’s stopped asking how Eren’s feeling, they don’t hold high hopes for Eren’s future. His friends don’t either, and sometimes Eren wonders if they even bother to think of him outside of school. He only has a small group of friends, most of which he rarely talks to anymore out of his own anxiety, the self-loathing gripping him by the heart whenever he dares to think of speaking to a friend. It’s that self-loathing that makes him turn around and walk away before he can make his presence known, and it’s that self-loathing which is slowly making him lose his friends. His only friends now are the ones who talk to _him_ first, and that number is dwindling.

                But it’s good that nobody holds high hopes for Eren’s future. Because Eren’s not sure if he even _has_ a future.

                Altogether, he feels lost in life. He doesn’t know where he’s going with it, and being a junior in high school, he’s _expected_ to know everything that he wants to do from here on out. But Eren _doesn’t_ know. He has no special talents, and he has no activities that he likes to do that strike his fancy so hard that he could ever consider doing it for the rest of his life. Eren also has no chance of ever becoming famous or anything of the like. He’s too pathetic. Too ugly. Too useless. Too _lost._

He sits in a classroom now, thinking over these things, his entire essence reminding himself that he’s not worth anybody’s time. He’s a waste of space, and the chair that he takes up in the class he’s in could be filled with someone better right now, someone who might actually pay attention in class, eyes not flooded with tears and heart not racing in their chest. But it’s Eren who occupies this seat, a seat just a few feet over from the door that separates the classroom from the hallways. It’s Eren and his thoughts of dying, it’s Eren who’s being a burden on everyone. Who knows - if Eren weren’t in this seat right now, it could be the world’s next genius here, someone productive who could be here.

                Eren blinks rapidly, fighting back tears. He holds his pencil in his hand, his fingers idly rubbing over the chew marks and indents in the wood while his eyes roam the front of the room, pretending to pay attention. There’s just no way that he could _really_ pay attention, however. His stomach’s fighting him, wanting more nutrition inside it - all Eren’s eaten today was a single bite of an apple, and he completely skipped lunch, but as the end of the school day draws nearer, Eren’s mind steadily fears when he’ll have to go home and eat dinner and _all those calories, all those opportunities to make himself even uglier_ \- and his eyes, they’re covered in a layer of water, tears fighting for a way out so that they can roll down his cheeks. Eren doesn’t let them out, though, trying to fight them back with dry swallows and the occasional bite of his fingernails.

                Eren can’t exactly remember when he’d first started hating himself. It just sort of _happened_ one day, one day that led into so many more afterwards, at first sporadic but then leaking into a daily thing where Eren would finish his dinner, hug his parents, and scurry upstairs, where his mother would think he’s doing homework and then going straight for bed, and his father might think he’s talking to his friends or messing around on his laptop, but in reality, he’d be sitting up in his bed trying to debate whether it’s worth it to kill himself _now_ or if he should keep waiting.

                To Eren, it feels like ninety-nine percent of himself wants to die. But then there’s that one percent that wonders what would happen when he’s gone, all the happy moments and all the fun times he’ll miss if he kills himself. It’s that measly one percent that wins every time, it’s that measly one percent that is to thank for Eren still walking this earth.

                Eren takes a deep breath. The sleeve of his sweater falls down his arm, and he’s quick to pull it back up. His insecurities run deep, and it’s a battle every night for himself - to cut himself would be to punish himself for being despicable, it would be to release all the pent up frustration he’s built inside of himself for so long, but to cut himself would also to be ruining the body he’d been born with, chipping away at any sort of beauty left in his skin with each drop of blood that hits the bathroom floor after hours.

                It’s hard for Eren to think of himself as beautiful anymore. His mother used to call him that when he was younger and his mind was more innocent, but with age, she’s stopped babying him. With age, Eren’s slowly started destroying the things that made him even an ounce of lovable. The array of scars over his forearms, down his stomach, across his thighs, he knows they’re ugly. The gross jut of his bones out far past his stomach, that’s even _uglier._ His paled skin, a slight gray tint to it - he used to be so _tan,_ but now he’s an off shade of white that doesn’t match the rest of his features. His eyes feel perpetually stuck in a downward gaze, and he can barely remember the last time that he felt a real smile spread over his lips.

                Eren’s used to this, though. He doesn’t _like_ this, but he’s _used_ to this.

                If anybody’s ever noticed Eren’s pain, they’ve said nothing. Eren doesn’t want them to say anything, either, because he thinks he’d be so much more comfortable getting over his problems himself. Were his mother to find out about how Eren’s been treating himself as of late, she wouldn’t hesitate to try to get him extra help, and Eren fears having to face that. He fears having to look down at a paper and admit to having suicidal thoughts, his mother nearby in tears over her one and only son being a _failure_ to her.

                The thought of his mother crying and worrying over him makes the first tear fall down Eren’s face. Suddenly, he’s really glad that he chose to sit in the back of the classroom today, because more and more tears follow, his thoughts plagued with his gorgeous mother and her hair tied to the side in a ponytail, her gentle face twisted with hurt upon seeing the damaged flesh of Eren’s arms. He didn’t go for his arms at first because he’d known they’d be the hardest to cover up, but eventually the depression inside him got to be too strong, and now he just uses long-sleeved shirts to hide his cuts. It’s never been a problem for him - his parents hadn’t bothered to ask him why he was wearing winter clothing in the middle of summer just a few months ago. So Eren knows that he’s safe, in that respect.

                It’s hard to hold back the whimpers he feels wanting to reach out and accompany his crying, but he manages. He uses the sleeve of his sweater to wipe away the tears from his cheeks, growing frustrated when the fabric of his clothing grows too damp to keep clearing his face off. But he manages.

                That’s all he’s been doing, these past few years. _Managing._ Enduring. Forcing himself to keep moving.

                It’s effort. It’s all of his effort put forth all at once that makes him strong enough to wipe tears off his face. It feels like, as he slowly falls apart inside, everything else moves on so normally. His legs get new red lines engraved in them, and his mother comes home with the same old off-brand cereal that she always buys. His face gets new stress lines just beneath his eyes, and his dad sits in the living room complaining about having to work overtime again. He jams his fingers down his throat to rid his stomach of another reason to call himself ugly, and he hears the same birds chirping outside as they do every morning upon the first sign of daylight.

                And even now. He cries, muffling his sobs in the back corner of the classroom, lights off because the teacher’s decided to show a video. His classmates pay him no mind, because Eren’s worthy of nobody’s attention. He’s worthy of nothing good. There’s a reason that he draws a blade over his skin nearly every night now.

                Eren’s eyes wander the room, checking and rechecking to make sure that nobody notices him crying. It wouldn’t matter, if they did, but Eren just doesn’t want to have to put up with someone pestering him after class over the reason for his sadness, or even worse, someone drawing all attention to him by raising their hand with an exclamation of, _“That kid back there is crying!”_

Eren wants to die. He wants to die so badly. He knows his parents, despite their disapproving stares, would miss him if he died, and maybe one or two of his friends would hurt a little at the news of his death, but what else? There’s nothing for Eren to live for at this point. He’s been completely overtaken by his self-hatred, he’s become a tainted body that does so little more than wake up and go back to sleep.

                Eren’s not beautiful. He ruined any chance of himself being beautiful the day that he first split his skin open, and then furthering himself from redeemable qualities the day that he decided to eat less than usual, and then even _more_ the day that he looked in the mirror and realized that his arms are an unattractive thin, coated in unsightly lines and his nails are stunted from having been in a constant state of chewed on.

                Eren’s too pathetic. Too ugly. Too useless. Too _lost._

                And, above all, he’s beyond repair.

                                                                                                             ~|~

                Levi feels like he might just be at the height of his happiness.

                He, of course, doesn’t show it on the outside. He’s not someone who likes to use his face to express joy, nor his voice, or, really, any part of him at all. People who don’t know him - and, to an extent, people who _do_ know him - would assume that Levi’s drawn eyebrows and narrowed eyes, his never ending frowns combined with his threatening glares would mean that Levi’s upset about something. But he’s not, not _really_. The worst he’s had to deal with recently would be the nagging from Hanji, but even _she’s_ not _too_ bad.

                It’s a school day, a Thursday in late January.Levi sits in the back of his Chemistry classroom, his mind racing with everything but science.

                At lunch, Levi hadn’t gotten to sit down to eat with Hanji, a close childhood friend of his - though if you asked him, he’d, at most, dare to refer to her as an _acquaintance_ \- because he’d been pulled aside to have a meeting with one of his teachers. It was his Math teacher, who told him he’d been accepted into the school’s math club, despite having expressed interest in it so dreadfully late in the year. Levi’s smart, though, so much so that the offer of having him on a school academic team just couldn’t be passed up. Levi knows this because his Math teacher said those exact words, or some variation of them, and those few words now pass through his mind on replay while he stares up at his Chemistry teacher and pretends to care about what the hell is being discussed.

                Getting accepted into a math club isn’t the only thing that’s going so well for Levi, either. Last night he’d gone home to a bunch of letters from different colleges asking for him to apply, and the day before, he’d been able to brag to Hanji about achieving higher grades than her. Hanji didn’t seem offended, but the satisfaction for Levi comes from his _own_ reaction to knowing that he’s doing slightly better than his ultimate competition. Hanji might be Levi’s only true friend, but she’s also Levi’s only true _competition._ Academically and physically.

                Levi had met Hanji in elementary school, when she’d thought his long hair looked stupid and decided to make her opinion known to him. Levi was a little too young to understand what she’d been trying to get at, so when he got to middle school and she was still buzzing around him, he’d remembered what she said and he went out to get it cut shorter. A lot shorter. It’s styled into an undercut now, dark hair a fair length on top and stopping suddenly enough so that the hair doesn’t quite reach the nape of his neck.

                Levi, admittedly, _likes_ his new hairstyle. So it’s not like Hanji wasn’t technically helping him when she’d insulted his hair back in elementary school.

                Now that they’re in high school, Levi doesn’t think that Hanji’s changed very much. She’s still doing as she’s always done, running unconventional _“experiments,”_ as she would call them, on unsuspecting victims, and blabbing her mouth all day with no filter on it. But, then again, maybe Levi hasn’t changed too much, either. He’s always had a saddening aura to him.

                As for how Hanji’s his ultimate competition, it’s just how things have been between them since they first met. Back then, if Hanji got an A on a test, then _Levi_ wanted an A on that test. Now, if Levi’s able to run ten miles and hardly break a sweat, than _Hanji_ wants to be able to run ten miles and hardly break a sweat. Levi likes to think that it’s Hanji who’s the more competitive soul, but either way, that’s their friendship- or, er, _acquaintanceship._

Hanji isn’t in the class that Levi’s currently in, however. She’d gotten put in an Earth Science class for this year, while Levi’s stuck in Chemistry.

                Not that Levi minds. He needs a break from her every now and then. A break which he occupies with learning - or, at least, pretending to learn, given that he actually already knows mostly everything that his teacher spits out of their mouth - and an occasional glance at the embodiment of pure perfection who tends to occupy the seat in the corner of the room.

                Even now, his angel sits across the room, legs crossed at the ankles beneath his seat, fingers holding onto a pencil. He’s resting the cheek closest to Levi on a fist, chestnut-brown hair falling over his head in uneven locks, uneven locks but still utterly _gorgeous_ locks. The lights in the room are off, preventing Levi from getting an incredibly good look at him, but it’s almost like he shines with each hint of illumination that crosses over his face at odd moments. His face glitters with a wet sort of sparkle, like he’s just dumped his face into a puddle of water and the liquid refuses to evaporate.

                Even the damned brats _name_ is adorable. It’s Eren, a title that’s only half as sweet as the boy who bears it.

                Levi’s talked to Eren a few times. Levi went over and made himself known to Eren back in September, and since then, they’ve held a few small conversations every now and then. Levi doesn’t think that Eren’s aware of his staring, or how his heart beats faster when he sees Eren enter the room, but if he is, he’s not doing anything about it. In fact, it’s Levi who upholds their relationship, really. It’s always Levi who approaches Eren after class and tries to pull him aside for a quick talk. It’s always Levi who initiates the little touches, like how he’ll sometimes brush a hand over Eren’s hair when Levi goes to sharpen his pencil, or how he makes sure to go straight to Eren every time there’s a partner activity going on.

                Levi doesn’t care that he has to be the one to start everything. He doesn’t care, because all he cares about is that he even _gets_ to spend time with such a heavenly figure. All he cares about is that Eren’s still alive, and that Eren’s still willing to talk to him.

                Eren has such a sad face when he’s not speaking to someone. Even now, Levi doesn’t doubt that there’s a frown hidden behind the fist holding Eren’s head up. It’s with this knowledge that Levi tries to make it his goal to see Eren smile whenever he’s able to speak to him. Usually, it works, if he’s counting the small half-grins and the subtle smirks that Eren pulls after Levi tells him a joke. He has a whole arsenal of puns that he’s collected over the years and stored away in his mind, and now his sole purpose for them is to crack a smile on Eren’s lips.

                That’s all he wants. To see Eren smile. To hear his laugh. Levi’s memorized Eren’s laugh to heart. It’s soft, with just enough volume that it’s possible to be heard as long Levi’s not more than a few feet away.

                Levi doesn’t know exactly when he’d fallen head-over-heels for Eren. Their first meeting had been a little bitter on Levi’s end, as Eren had accidentally bumped into Levi while the two were trying to leave the classroom on a day that Levi was in a particularly bad mood. He then whirled around to face Eren, and he demanded an apology on his part, and when Eren stammered out his words, Levi realized that he was dealing with a fucking _angel._ Since then, any sort of affection that he’s had for Eren has only grown stronger with each passing day.

                It’s January now. Levi’s tried to find it in himself to break his crush on Eren, because when the hell has Levi _ever_ had a crush on _anyone?_ All his life, he’s been too focused on school to care much for romance, and all of a sudden a cute brat walks into him and Levi now has a thing for glancing at the corner of his Chemistry classroom for a glimpse of chestnut-colored hair and the usual long-sleeved, oversized sweater that he sees on Eren.

                Hanji knows about Eren. But only a little bit. She knows what Levi’s told of him, which isn’t an incredible amount. She doesn’t seem to know about Levi’s crush, and honestly, Levi’s glad that she isn’t aware just yet. If Eren doesn’t like him back, then Levi would rather not have the shame of his rejection be seen through eyes other than his own.

                It’s the fear of rejection and the fear of losing comfort with Eren that keeps Levi from telling him how he feels. But Levi’s fine with their situation. For now, all he wants is to make Eren smile.

                                                                                                             ~|~

                Sitting at a dinner table with his family, the hour hand on the clock hanging on a nearby wall pointing extremely close to the number six, it hurts Eren. It hurts, because there are his parents, his mother who constantly tries to keep him involved in their pointless conversation, and his father who unknowingly raises the bar of his expectations for Eren with every word. It’ll be a simple phrase, a _“I heard the neighbor’s son just got admitted into a really good university downtown,”_ and instead of motivating Eren, he feels his heart plummet. He could never be good enough for what his father wants, and he doesn’t have enough charisma left in him to keep up a fun conversation like his mother wants.

                There’s also the _eating_ part that pains Eren. He hardly eats all day, saving the calories up for when he’ll be forced to chow down around his parents at the end of the evening. Eren wouldn’t mind, but then he finishes his first bite, and suddenly his mother’s offering him more and more food, telling him he _“needs more meat on his bones.”_ But Eren doesn’t think so. If he can’t be beautiful for having a happy face and legs free of scars, then he might as well be thin, right? The only way to be thin would be to eat less, but because Eren’s too weak - emotionally, though he feels it physically quite often as well - to move half the time, he chooses to go about his diet by less than conventional methods. Like eating what his mother wants him to eat, and then sitting in front of the toilet when his parents have fallen asleep, shoving fingers down his throat to try and get every bit of food that’s ever entered his body out before it has a chance to ruin him. The vomit feels _disgusting,_ and he feels like absolute shit once he’s empty again, but he can’t stop himself. It’s become a habit.

                So, when his mother, who sits across from him, picks up a biscuit and sets it on Eren’s plate, telling him that he needs to eat more, Eren does as she wants him to. He tears into the biscuit, flashing her the most innocent eyes that he can, as if he won’t go upstairs later on and flush that same biscuit down the toilet in the form of throw up.

                “Eren, love?”

                Eren looks up from where he’d been absorbed in the biscuit. It feels uncomfortable to eat, knowing that his stomach is empty for the other twenty or so hours of the day, but he’ll do anything to keep his parents happy.

                His eyes find his mother’s, and she looks over at him with almost sadness in her eyes. His father doesn’t look at him the same way. He looks at him with expectation.

                “Yeah, mom?”

                “Your father and I were talking,” she says, her eyes now cast downwards at her plate of food, idly shoving the calories around with her fork. “We’ve noticed that your grades have only been going down since your first report card this year.”

                Eren swallows the bit of biscuit he’d had in his mouth, fingers going numb and tongue losing its will to taste. He shifts his eyes to his father, but he’s only able to look at him momentarily before the guilt sets in and he has to force his gaze back to his mother. Not being the perfect son weighs heavy on his heart.

                His mother continues. “We’ve decided that you should get some extra help.”

                “Extra help?”

                “Your school offers tutoring sessions, so we’re going to sign you up for some.”

                Eren can feel the biscuit in his stomach now. It’s twisting his stomach, making him feel like he’s just been punched in the gut. His arms burn against the fabric of his sweater.

                “It’ll just be you and another student, so I don’t think it’ll be too bad. You’re so smart, love, I just wish you’d show it more often.”

                He can’t do this. He can’t go to _tutoring._ Tutoring is the very essence of trying to live up to expectations, and Eren has enough trouble doing that for his own mother and father. If he goes to tutoring, he’ll have to sit across from some kid who apparently knows everything, and what’ll happen when he doesn’t understand something that they’re trying to teach him? Eren will get frustrated, then his partner will get frustrated, then Eren will have to excuse himself to the bathroom to cry over being so _pathetic._

                There’s just no way that he can stand to get a tutor. What will they even tutor him on? Probably everything, because Eren’s grades are dropping in every subject. But the more subjects that he needs tutoring on means the longer he’ll have to be around his tutor, and Eren already has difficulty being social. Being around a stranger for several hours might actually wreck him.

                Eren’s already been destroyed, though. He’s been destroyed by the hours of cutting and scratching himself until he bleeds, the hours of vomiting and crying himself to sleep. What’s the difference between killing himself that way and killing himself _this_ way, killing himself emotionally by having to talk to a tutor for several hours a week?

                It’s only been several hours since he was last crying, crying in his Chemistry classroom, and he doesn’t even remember _why_ he was in tears. He’s in tears so often now, it’s pointless to try and remember every reason why. Crying over having to talk to a tutor will be so insignificant compared to how hard and how long he’s cried over everything else that’s fallen apart in his life.

                “Okay,” he mutters. His mother’s eyes light up, meeting Eren’s once again with a smile on her face. She uses one hand to flip her ponytail from one side to the other in a quick motion.

                “I knew you’d agree,” she says. “Have another biscuit, my love.”

                                                                                                             ~|~

                _“Please, Levi?”_

                “You’ve gone out of your goddamned mind.”

                Hanji’s face morphs into a pout, and Levi shoots back a glare in response. Hanji doesn’t act fazed by it, but after a few seconds, her face falls and she claps her hands on Levi’s shoulder.

                “But just think! You’ll make someone so happy!”

                “And why do I give a shit about someone else’s happiness?”

                “Because you’re a nice person?”

                _“Right.”_

Hanji frowns. “Please, Levi? I can’t do this alone.”

                “Then maybe you shouldn’t do it at all.”

                “But I _have_ to!”

                “Why?”

                “You see, Mr. Grumpy Pants,” Hanji slides over to Levi’s side, her arm going over his shoulders now, “I’ve always loved children.”

                “These brats are the same age as us.”

                “Yes, but! It’ll be just like caring for someone younger! Whether someone is seven or seventeen, there’s always room for learning, and have you seen people’s faces when they understand something new? It’s beautiful!”

                “I’m too busy doing other shit.”

                “Like what?”

                “I have that math club I need to-”

                “Oh, _psh,_ ” she rolls her eyes, “It’s not like tutoring is going to take up all of your time! I’m sure there’s going to be a way to fit it in around your dumb math club schedule.”

                “Dumb?”

                “Look.” Hanji drops her arm from Levi’s shoulder, bouncing away from him. She moves up to the counter in front that separates them from the student council offices. She picks up a clipboard from the surface, and she carries it over to Levi, holding it up. “Still three spots left! That’s perfect for us!”

                “Perfect for you and two _other_ poor bastards, more like.”

                “Don’t call yourself that, Levi.”

                “I _wasn’t_ calling myself that.”

                “But you’re signing up, aren’t you?”

                “No.”

                “C’mon, Levi. Look, if you don’t like the kid you get paired up with, you _can_ always drop it. Or you and I could switch students.”

                Levi sighs. He doesn’t really want to waste any more of his precious time away doing something so menial, but then again, what else _is_ he doing with his time? Levi has high hopes for his future, hence why he spends so much time at night with his nose dug into his textbooks, trying to pack enough knowledge in his brain to make him an abled genius. Tutoring a brat would help _both_ of them study at the same time. His only true qualm is that he could get stuck with a _stubborn_ brat, or someone who’s going to be especially sensitive to his continuously narrowed eyes and the frown that’s always etched into his cheeks.

                “Who are the brats that need tutoring?” Levi asks.

                “Not sure yet. The sign up sheet for _them_ is- uh- it’s somewhere around here, I think, but I don’t know where. Oh! But I could look for it, if you want me to! It’d probably be with the-”

                “Don’t _snoop,_ Hanji.”

                “I’m not snooping. I’m using _logic._ ”

                “How?”

                “I’m using logic to deduce where the signup sheet for the kids who need tutoring would be!”

                “Right. Can we go back to lunch, now?”

                “But I haven’t-”

                “They’re serving chicken nuggets today.”

                Hanji drops the clipboard she’d been holding, her eyes widening. _“Chicken nuggets?”_

“And mashed potatoes.”

                “You know my weaknesses, Mr. Grumpy Pants.”

                “Stop calling me that.”

                Hanji leans down and scoops the clipboard back up from the ground. She twists around, setting it down on the counter and fishing for a pencil from her pockets. Upon finding one, she scribbles her name down on the signup sheet, then flings the pencil towards Levi, who catches it without so much as a stumble backwards.

                “I won’t make you sign up.” Hanji walks towards the hallway, undoubtedly preparing for when she’ll bolt into the lunchroom to grab her beloved chicken nuggets and mashed potatoes. “But, please consider it, Levi? You’d make a great tutor! So many people would be happy to have you as their mentor! The only thing you need to work on is your smile. Other than that, you’re perfect!”

                “I-”

                “Please think about it?”

                Levi gives her a small nod. “I will.”

                “Yay!” Assuming victory, Hanji prepares herself for a second before dashing away, an excited hop in her step as she heads for her lunch.

                Once she’s out of sight, Levi finds his eyes drawn over to the signup sheet that Hanji’s left lying on the counter. Three spots left- no, only _two_ spots left. Hanji just wrote her name down.

                There can’t be any harm in it. It’s just teaching a brat for several hours and then going home. That’s all there is to it.

                It’s now Friday, so if he signs up now, he has the weekend and maybe a few days afterwards to mentally prepare. If he chooses to wait, then who knows? By the time he _will_ be mentally prepared, all of the positions will have been taken.

                Levi grips the pencil that Hanji had thrown at him. In a split second decision, he grabs at the clipboard, pulling it to him and scribbling his name down just below Hanji’s. The sign up sheet asks only for his name and way to contact him, so he writes his phone number down as well.

                It might be stupid of him, but if nothing else, he can think of this as a learning experience. If he gets paired up with the shittiest brat ever, then at least he’ll know for the next time that Hanji tries to pull him into an activity like this.

                Levi leaves the student council area with his mind wandering to better thoughts, like how he might try to stop Eren for a second later on after Chemistry and tell him a joke he’d heard on television just the night before. It’s the thought of how Eren will smile upon hearing it, and the light, almost soundless giggle that he’ll elicit, that keeps Levi going.

                                                                                                             ~|~

                Everything hurts.

                Eren’s finished throwing up - and he's even finished cleaning up after himself -purging his stomach of the cheeseburger that he’d eaten for dinner. He loves cheeseburgers, and they might even be his favorite food, but his stomach’s used to being empty now, and his throat feels odd when it doesn’t have his puke flowing through it at the usual time.

                His body hurts. His stomach burns with the feeling of being desolate, his scars stinging now that they’re exposed to the air instead of the usual tingle of being stuck underneath sweater sleeves and tight pants. He wears only boxers now, although it scares him because he knows that if he moves his head to the left, he’ll be staring into the mirror attached to the back of his bathroom door, and he’ll have to see what a mess he’s become. How _pathetic_ he is. How ugly. Useless. _Lost._

                Eren’s chest aches. This morning, he’d had to walk into the school with his mother at his side while she requested that an administrator help Eren sign up for tutoring lessons. It wasn’t too hard - all he had to do was say his name and other bullshit like that. They were easy things to do, but Eren still found difficulty in trying to get his voice to work.

                His entire day has just been _shit._ Every single day has been shit for him ever since he started ruining himself. It started with a single cut, a cut that he’d been hesitant to make, but once it was there, the next thing he knew, his legs became more red than their natural tan. And now, his legs have paled, his skin almost gray in the few spots that aren’t absolutely torn to shreds from the abuse of a blade.

                He hasn’t cut himself yet tonight. _Yet._ Given a few more minutes on the cold bathroom floor, he knows it won’t be long before he’s scrubbing blood off of his stinging flesh.

                Eren stretches his legs out in front of himself, back to the wall, the toilet in front of him. There’s nothing left to throw up but stomach acid. There’s nothing left to think about but how disgusting he is. He’s disgusting for everything he’s done, everything he’s _ever_ done, and each step he takes to further himself towards suicide is just another reason to think himself ugly.

                His life feels like he’s in his own sort of hell. Everybody around him walks around perfectly happy, going about their lives with smiles and laughs, not letting the small things get to them. And then there’s Eren, who can’t wake up in the morning without his whole body aching, who can’t walk down the stairs without having to stop for a breath, who can’t even find anything to distract himself from the pain because his mind’s too powerful for him. If his brain wants to think about his uselessness, then Eren’s going to be forced to think about his uselessness. Which is why he’s _always_ thinking about his uselessness.

                Eren takes a deep breath. Everything hurts, but he’s developed a practice of deep inhales and deep exhales to try and lessen the sting that fills his every pore. The bathroom floor feels like ice against his skin, and the wall isn’t any kinder to his back. There’s a shower to his right, and he’s compelled to turn it on any maybe give in to the sobs that fight for a way out of him. He’s not sure if he’s even capable of moving, however.

                But then a memory comes to Eren. It’d been just earlier that day, when he was sluggishly gathering his things up after his Chemistry period, when someone walked up to him and stared down at his desk, their arms crossed.

                It was Levi.

                Eren’s known Levi for a while. Levi comes up to him nearly every day after Chemistry, and though their conversations are short because of the limited time between classes, Eren’s grown to love Levi, in a way. He loves how Levi’s one of the few people who bother to try reaching out to him. He loves that Levi hasn’t given up on him just yet, even though he absolutely _should._

Eren might not know a hell of a lot about Levi’s life, but he loves him. It almost makes him feel bad, that when Eren’s thinking over killing himself, Levi’s not one of the first people who come to his mind. Levi would miss him if he died, wouldn’t he? _Maybe_.

                Levi has a thing for approaching Eren after class, a smug smirk on his mouth as he prepares to shoot Eren what Levi seems to think is the greatest joke ever invented. As for today, he’d looked down at Eren, who was still sitting in his desk, straightening his books. Levi had on a dark shirt with sleeves down to his elbows, dark pants low on his hips, his muscles simultaneously threatening to Eren but also, if he’s being incredibly honest to himself, _delicious._ Eren’s tried to block out any chances of himself developing greater than platonic feelings for anyone else in the fear of heartbreak, but if he _had_ to date someone, he’d go for Levi. Levi’s been a good person to him ever since Eren met him back in August, and while some of Levi’s jokes fall short, there are some that warm his heart.

                Just like the one he’d told Eren a few hours before.

                _“Oi, Eren. Where does a general keep his armies?”_

_“Uh- I don’t know, where?”_

_“In his sleevies.”_

When he’d first heard it, it took Eren a couple of moments to get it. Once it hit him, his eyes widened a little and he couldn’t stop the smile that wanted to form over his face. Levi seemed pleased, too, and he gave Eren a smirk in return. It was a beautiful moment, in Eren’s head, and it actually made a little bit of hope bubble in his chest. It was a hope that made him happy for the first time in so long, and the happiness lasted until the end of the school day when he’d had to go home. He hadn’t even seen Levi at all after the joke was told, but just the memory of Levi’s self-assured expression, telling the joke off like it was the single greatest thing he’s ever told, it was enough to get Eren through the rest of the day. It makes him feel bad for having still not have been strong enough to hold back from giving in to the dark desire of throwing up after his dinner, but it _was_ just a joke. It’s not like Levi proposed to him. All he did was throw a little humor into Eren’s day.

                All Eren _needed_ was a little humor, though. Just something to make him laugh for once.

                Eren’s almost surprised when he reaches up to feel his face now and finds that, even though he’s crying, he’s also _smiling_ again. It’s not a sad smile, or a bitter one, either. It’s happy. It’s so happy that his chest aches and his stomach feels like it has bricks in it, his face feels too hot, and he’s hiccuping through the tears. It’s such a _lame_ joke, but it means so much to Eren. It’s not even so much the joke itself, but the fact that Levi puts up with his shit and bothers to talk to Eren after class so often, and that he brushes aside how little Eren speaks and how sad Eren must look, Levi doesn’t even seem to give a fuck about _any_ of that. It’s a small gesture, for Levi to tell Eren his jokes, but it’s a gesture that means so much - _too_ much - to Eren.

                The surge of confidence from earlier is back at full force, and it wills Eren to standing up - stumbling a bit, as his toes must’ve fallen asleep without him knowing at some point - and, instead of ripping his skin open like he’d thought he would, he instead grabs a nearby towel and wraps it around his abdomen, exiting the bathroom and entering the attached bedroom. The towel comes off as soon as Eren’s at his closet, and it’s only a few strong moments on his part before he’s dressed for bed.

                Levi might not know it, but Eren truly loves him. Levi’s the sort of encouragement that he needs, and his jokes, as Eren sees them, are indirect ways of saying, _“You can do it”._ If Eren can still bring himself to smile at a joke, especially one as lame as _a general keeping his armies in his sleevies,_ then he can still bring himself to live another day.

                Of course, he knows he’s reading too much into it, and he knows that Levi probably doesn’t mean anything beyond trying to get a reaction out of Eren with his comedy. But to Eren, it’s deeper than that. Levi would look at him like he’s gone insane if he told him just how much his jokes mean to him, and really, there’s no way that Eren could even begin to put his gratitude into words.

                It’s little more than a few hours, total, of happiness for Eren, but a few hours mean a hell of a lot compared to the months of continuous loathing and self-inflicted injuries.

                It’s almost weird to think that nobody’s noticed how much he’s been hurting. Eren’s covered in scars - scars that he hides so obviously - his skin’s pallid, his rips show through on his body, he has dark lines under his eyes, and yet it feels like Eren’s the only one aware of his own deterioration. Even his mother, who’s constantly touching him and kissing him and staring right into his eyes, has never, not once, confronted Eren on whether he’s truly okay or not.

                Maybe he shouldn’t expect so much of people. It’s arrogant for him to want someone to notice that he’s in pain, but Eren’s getting tired of living in his own hell.

                Eren doesn't really _want_ his parents to notice, anyways. They'd be the first ones to send him off to someone _else_ to handle him, rather than trying to help him themselves, and Eren _loathes_ the idea of a therapist or counselor. He especially loathes the recurring thought of his mother beside him, watching as he sits in a therapist’s office, his hand shaking around his pencil while he admits to wanting to kill himself through writing. Then, later on, he’d be admitting to it with his voice while positioned across someone who would supposedly be able to help him, and Eren can’t handle the thought of his mother crying over Eren’s words. She’s so pretty, and her face only deserves to have a smile on it. His father, too - in Eren’s head, he wouldn’t be crying in that situation, but rather, he’d probably be holding onto either Eren’s or Eren’s mother’s hand, his face set into a state of no emotion. No emotion, besides maybe absolute _disappointment._ It’s not Eren’s place to make his mother cry for any reason.

                Still. It'd be nice if _someone_ would notice that he's changed. That he's sad. That he's almost always contemplating his death.

                Maybe it's not that nobody's noticed. Maybe it's more so that nobody _cares._

                Eren tries to wipe that thought from his mind with the memory of Levi's joke again. It's less effective the second time, the thought of a general keeping his armies in his sleevies, but he still manages to upturn the corner of his lip _just a tad._ That's enough for him right now. It’s enough for him, because all he needs is something to fixate his mind on while forcing himself to drift off to sleep, and if Levi’s jokes are what it takes, then so be it.

                When Eren lies down on his bed and shoves his legs under his blankets, his chest hurts, his stomach aches, his wrists burn, and his jaw feels sore, but it doesn’t matter to him. All that matters is where a general keeps his armies.

                                                                                                             ~|~

                Levi’s sitting at a library table just after school hours, the heel of his palm digging into his forehead as he glares menacingly down at his Math textbook, trying to figure out what the hell he’s supposed to be doing for homework. He doesn’t normally hang around in the school’s library when he does his work, but today’s an exception because a certain _Hanji_ begged him to stay after for a bit while she ran off to do something _“highly important.”_ She didn’t tell Levi where she was going, and Levi thinks it’s pointless for him to even be here if all she wants him here for is so that she has someone to walk home with when she’s ready, but nevertheless, he’s fucking _here_.

                He doesn’t really have anything better to do, in all honesty. But he’d like to think that he has a life outside of Hanji and schoolwork, even though he knows that’s far from the truth.

                Today’s a Wednesday, a little less than a week after Levi succumbed to signing up for tutoring. His emotions towards that have been fluctuating ever since - he’s gone from being somewhat excited, to dreading it, and then to being completely indifferent about the whole situation, before finally making a full circle when the feeling of excitement showed up again. As of now, he’s indifferent, though that’s mainly due to him trying to preoccupy his thoughts with numbers and equations.

                Levi’s just about to set flip the page of his textbook to further delve himself into his studying, when the book is snatched away from him and tossed to the side. He looks up and meets the eyes of Hanji, who has a ravenous look on her face.

                “Mr. Grumpy Pants!”

                “Didn’t I tell you not to call me that?”

                “I don’t care,” she states, bluntly. “Guess what I just found out!”

                “The school’s never going to serve chicken nuggets ever again?”

                Hanji looks offended, and she makes a show of it by pressing her palm to her chest and dropping her jaw. “Don’t say that! You might jinx it.”

                “Just get to the damned point.”

                A smile forms on Hanji’s face at that. She stands across from Levi, resting her elbows on the table, leaning forward so that she’s mere inches from Levi’s nose. He can feel her breaths on his face, and if he weren’t in a library with other people, he’d punch her in the face and tell her to mind his personal space. It wouldn’t be a hard punch, but just enough to make her back away and _maybe_ laugh.

                “I know who we’re tutoring,” Hanji says. “Starting next week.”

                “Oh?”

                Levi had been reluctant, but he’d admitted to Hanji about having signed up to be a tutor on Friday. He’d told her when he went to go sit with her and her chicken nuggets, just a few minutes after having written his name down on the signup sheet. Hanji had been ecstatic at the news.

                “Yeah! I went to the office just now, and they said they’ve already paired everybody off. You’re with a kid named Nanaba, and I have someone named Eren.”

                “Named what?”

                “Huh- Nanaba?”

                “No, the other one. The one that _you’re_ teaching.”

                “Eren?”

                “Eren who?”

                “Er- His last name is Jaeger, I believe.”

                “Do you know what he looks like?”

                “Not really.”

                “How’s his name spelled?”

                “E-R-E-N. Levi, do-”

                “Switch with me.”

                Hanji’s eyebrows raise. “What?”

                “Switch. With. Me. I want to tutor Eren.”

                “Why?”

                “I just do.”

                “Do you know him?”

                “Does it matter, Shit Eyes?

                “Why are you allowed to call me ‘ _Shit Eyes’_ but I can’t call you Mr. Grumpy Pants?”

                “That’s besides the point. Point is, can I have Eren?”

                Hanji pretends to consider it for a moment. Levi doesn’t doubt that she’d give Eren to him, because Hanji probably has no clue who either Eren or Nanaba are, so it wouldn’t matter to her either way.

                The mention of Eren’s name excites Levi. It makes his heart flutter, and the idea of him being able to talk to Eren for more than just two minutes after Chemistry class makes him feel thrilled. Whereas before he’d just wanted to get this whole tutoring thing over with, he’s actually now looking forward to having himself be just inches away from the gorgeous angel that he’s so admired, and maybe he’ll even get a chance to touch him one or two times. He shouldn’t like Eren to the extent that he does, since they’ve only talked sporadically thus far, but hell if Levi doesn’t want his lips on every single part of Eren’s body, in innocent ways and in not-so-innocent ways.

                Hanji’s smile looks fond now, as if she can read Levi’s mind and somehow knows of how badly he wants to kiss Eren. _So fucking badly._ “You can have Eren.”

                “Mm.”

                “Not even going to say thanks?”

                “Not after the nickname you gave me.”

                “But you just called me Shit Eyes!”

                “So we’re even, then.”

                “And that means that you should say thanks to me. For letting you have Eren.”

                “Hm. Nah.”

                Hanji looks like she’s fuming, but her grin is wider than it’s ever been before. Levi stretches over and steals his textbook back up from where Hanji had thrown it, and he starts flipping through the pages to find where he’d been at before she’d walked in and interrupted him.

                Levi can’t wait to tutor Eren. He can’t wait to be so close to something so pure, and while Levi certainly doesn’t know every detail of Eren’s life, he knows that there’s just no way that someone so _beautiful_ could become any less than so after a few more conversations with him. The small talks that Levi’s had with Eren right now have proven to be the opposite, and each word that he hears fall from Eren’s plush lips sounds like a melody that his heart grows just a bit fonder to every day.

                Levi’s going to have to study up on some more jokes to tell Eren. Eren’s smile is one of the most heavenly things that Levi’s ever seen, and he knows that his jokes are the easiest way to pull a grin out of Eren. Eren, his angelic brat.

                                                                                                             ~|~

                Eren fumbles with the hem of his long-sleeved top. It’s a dark color, the collar low and the bottom extending past his hips, the sleeves long enough that they hang over his fingers. His hair’s been brushed out of his face so that his forehead’s exposed, and he can feel himself blushing even though nothing’s actually happened yet. Nothing important, at least.

                Eren’s been waiting for about fifteen minutes now. As per the guidelines for tutoring, Eren was told to wait after school by the student council offices on the Friday following the end of the sign up period. There are a few other kids around him, though not many - most of them have already found their partners and left. Eren sits alone on a loveseat, plucking nervously at his clothing, legs crossing and uncrossing at the ankles. There’s a small girl with blonde hair nearby, and she’s been sending him looks for the past few minutes, but Eren tries to ignore it. He knows he looks like shit. He doesn’t need someone _staring_ at him for it.

                The past week for Eren has been mostly the same as it always is. He comes to school, the highlight of his day is Levi telling him a joke, then he goes home, has dinner, throws up, and cries himself to sleep. There are the little moments in-between that keep him going, like how on Tuesday, his mother decided to take him out late at night for a drive. He loves talking to his mother, and a lighthearted conversation with her is what he’s been needing for so long now. Besides the jokes from Levi, of course, but talking to his mother like they’d done was different because it’s a rarer occurrence.

                Only once did she bring up the subject of his grades during their ride together. If it were his father, Eren would be drilled on his grades. He’s stricter. Eren loves him, but he’s _stricter._ Eren can’t possibly live up to his hopes for him.

                That’s the only reason he’s even _in_ tutoring. He’s expected to get smarter, and then maybe become the genius son that his father’s always wanted, and then he’ll earn a lot of money and having amazing grandchildren and Eren’s father would be _so_ proud. His mother, too. They’d be the proudest that they’ve ever been of him, a sort of pride that Eren’s smile couldn’t ever bring to them. Only, there’s a couple of problems with what he’s expected to achieve.

                One being, Eren has no hopes of becoming a _genius_. He’s already too fucking stupid to control himself from his urges at night, and he’s too dumb to take advanced classes. He’ll never be considered a smart kid.

                Two being, Eren doesn’t care about money. All he cares about at this point is pleasing his parents, and that in itself is a task for him. His parents look happy when they’re around him, but he has absolutely no doubt that they’re thinking about how _useless_ he is every other minute of the day.

                Lastly, Eren can’t even _provide_ grandchildren. He _can,_ but he doesn’t _want_ to. He’s known, ever since he was so young, that he has a preference towards men over women. He can’t help it, it’s just what he likes, but he’s been too afraid to tell his parents that. He doesn’t know how they’ll react. They act like they’d love him no matter what he did, even if it were murder, but he can’t ever be too sure. Eren’s heard plenty of stories of parents turning on their child for things like being _gay._ He doesn’t want that to happen to him, too.

                He feels like he wants to cry. His eyes aren’t welling up with tears, but he’d give anything to rid himself of the strain on his cheeks, to reduce the urge to dig his stunted fingernails into his forearm to leave little marks to accompany his array of scars. He feels disgusting for even _considering_ hurting himself again, especially when he’s still in _school,_ but it’s hard _not to._

“Oi, Eren.”

                Eren looks up. Above him stands Levi, who, upon meeting Eren’s eyes with his own, sits down next to Eren on the loveseat. Levi’s arm goes around the back of the chair, not quite around Eren’s shoulders but _incredibly_ close to doing so. It makes Eren squirm in his seat a bit, not used to being so close to someone who isn’t his mother.

                “Levi? What’re you doing here?”

                “I’m your new tutor, brat.”

                “Tutor?”

                “Uh-huh.”

                “I didn’t know you- Er, I didn’t think you, uh-”

                “What, you didn’t think I was smart?”

                Eren purses his lips together, cheeks growing even warmer.

                Levi smirks. “You’re in for a surprise then, aren’t you? I’m in the school’s math club, I make straight A’s, I won an award last year for-”

                “Are you bragging?”

                “I’m _showing off._ ”

                _“Bragging.”_

“Am I impressing you, at least?”

                “Not really.”

                “Huh. What would it take to impress you, then?”

                “Make me into a genius.”

                Levi’s eyebrow twitches upward. His eyes bore into Eren’s, and Eren feels like he’s going to melt underneath the gaze.

                “You want to be a genius?” Levi asks.

                “I do.”

                “Tall order.”

                “Unlike you, right?”

                Levi’s eyes narrow. “Are you calling me short?”

                “I- I, uh, I didn’t mean to-”

                “I’m five foot three, thank you very much. And I’m fine with it, coming from _you._ ”

                Eren bites his lip. “Coming from me?”

                “Uh-huh. You’re cute.” Levi removes his arm from behind Eren. “Anyways. Give me your hand. I’ll write my address on it, and I want you to come to my house tomorrow at five and we’ll have our first lesson together, got it, brat?”

                Eren gives a small nod. His hand shakes when he holds it out for Levi, and it’s only calmed once Levi takes a hold of it. He pulls a Sharpie out from one of his pockets, and he proceeds to write on Eren’s skin, all the while Eren’s pleading over and over in his mind that Levi won’t try to push Eren’s sleeve back. Levi doesn’t, and Eren breaths a sigh of relief when his hand is let go.

                Levi stands up. “Promise me you’ll be at my house on time tomorrow? I don’t like shitty brats who can’t keep their promises.”

                “I-” Eren has to swallow the lump in his throat, “I promise.”

                “Good. Now, prepare your ass for this.” Levi, now standing in front of Eren once more, cracks his knuckles and clears his throat. There’s a smirk tugging on his mouth, making his handsome features look even nicer, his skin almost sparkling, in Eren's eyes, and his hair the perfect contrast to his ivory flesh. “Did you hear about the guy whose whole left side was cut off?”

                Eren’s fingers clutch onto the hem of his shirt, his hands uncertain of what to do. “No, why?”

                “Well, don't worry about him. He’s _all right_ now.”

                Eren smiles. It’s small, and this time he doesn’t laugh like he had at the joke about the general and his armies, but it’s still a smile. The longer that Levi stares down at him, the more strained his grin becomes, until he’s giggling out his anxiety right before Levi. It’s upon Eren’s laughter that Levi decides it’s time to take his leave.

                “I’ll see you this weekend, Eren?”

                Eren’s not used to laughing. Laughing brings tears to his eyes. With a wipe of his sleeve over the lashes of his right eye, he nods for Levi, saying, “I promise that I’ll be at your house on time. I _promise._ ”

                “Don’t let me down, Eren.”

                “I could never live with myself if I did.”

                                                                                                             ~|~

                Levi’s been preparing for this moment for the last five hours.

                Knowing that Eren’s supposed to be coming around at five, it being Saturday now, Levi set to work cleaning as soon as the clock hit noon. He started with the basics - cleaning off the counter tops, sweeping the floors, organizing the living room so that it’ll be suitable for when he and Eren sit in there together. Then he moves onto more advanced things, like scrubbing the walls, wiping off the doorknobs, and rewashing all of the clean dishes. His uncle - who also happens to be his _legal guardian_ ever since his parents’ deaths when Levi was little and, according to Hanji, had _stupid_ hair - walked into the room once before heading out, making some sort of smartass comment about Levi’s cleaning habits that Levi doesn’t even bother to remember now. He cares more about making sure that his angel has clean floors to walk on than caring about what his uncle thinks of his lifestyle choices.

                Eren’s supposed to be at the door at any minute now. Levi’s prepared everything just for him, and he’d even sprayed the air several times over to make sure it’s completely free of germs and to make sure that it smells nice enough for him. He doesn’t think that Eren would care too much, whether his house were as spotless as this or whether it was just a bunch of trash piling up on top of each other, because Eren’s an angel and Levi can’t imagine Eren being too angry at _anything._

Levi checks the time. It’s exactly five o’clock. Eren should be here.

                He’s worrying too much. He can’t expect Eren to show up at _exactly_ five. He needs to give him a little leeway. He’ll only be mad if Eren shows up maybe fifteen or twenty or so minutes late. That’s it. If Eren’s any earlier, than Levi has no reason to be upset. On the outside, at least.

                Truth is, he just wants as much time with Eren as is possible. He wants those big, round eyes to stare into his, a smile on his angel’s plump lips, melodious giggles filling the air, his small body curved and maybe touching Levi. Levi craves Eren’s touch, and he craves that voice of his. He wants to eat up every moan that he can draw out of Eren, and he wants to run his fingers over every single inch of Eren’s body. He doesn’t even care what Eren looks like underneath his clothing. It’s not his body that he’s after, at least, not to it’s fullest extent - he loves his eyes and his voice, his soft hair, his smiles, his giggles, and he loves the warmth that fills Levi’s heart when he’s around, and oh hell, he adores the patient look that Eren gives him while he awaits the punchline to one of Levi’s jokes.

                The clock says five o’clock still, with ten seconds left until the next minute. Those ten seconds pass, and Levi straightens out his shirt, as if it could ever have a wrinkle in it. Another ten seconds, and he moves to stand in front of the door, adjusting his pants as if they could ever dare to fall past his waist.

                Then, the doorbell rings.

                Levi gives it a good thirty seconds, just to make it seem like he totally wasn’t so eagerly waiting for Eren to show up, then he swings open the door. Eren stands before him, face almost surprised, cheeks a slightly pink hue. One side of his hair’s been pulled back by a hair clip, exposing his ear and forehead better.

                _Goddamn it_ , he’s fucking cute. He’s fucking _perfect._

He’s an angel.

                “Levi?”

                _His voice,_ Levi swears that he’s going to faint. He wants to hear that voice over and over again, whether it be in the form of laughter or in casual conversation, in repeated, heavenly mews that Levi forces out, in soft whimpers as Levi provides Eren with the pleasure that an angel deserves.

                Eren's just too perfect.

                “Welcome, brat.”

                “Brat?”

                Levi steps aside, and Eren walks in. He’s dressed in his usual sweater, but unlike the usual, he has a red scarf draped around his neck. Even though Eren’s clearly suited for winter weather, Levi still feels bad for having made Eren wait outside for so long. Eren’s nose and ears are an alarming red, and he sniffles once he’s inside the room.

                “I- uh,” Eren says, “I only brought one textbook over. I left the others at school. I’m sorry.”

                “Don’t be sorry. It’s fine,” Levi sighs, “Just. Don’t forget next time, yeah?”

                “You sound disappointed.”

                “I’m not. Go sit down. The living room is at the end of the hallway.”

                Eren doesn’t say anything. He leaves in the direction that Levi told him to go. Levi takes only a few seconds to shut the front door and lock it before entering the living room to find that Eren did _exactly_ what Levi had demanded. He sits on the far side of the couch closest to Levi, his shoulders drawn together, his body hunched forward. He looks almost _sad._

Levi knows how to fix that, however.

                “Oi, Eren.” Levi plops down onto the seat next to Eren, eyeing the textbook that Eren hugs close to his chest. He’s known before that Eren was thin, and that his angel had soft eyes, but this sort of nearness reveals that Eren’s bony in even his fingers, and that his eyes are wet with tears that refuse to fall. “Did you hear the story about the wall?”

                Eren blinks a few times. “No.”

                “Nevermind, then. I won’t tell you. You wouldn’t be able to get over it.”

                Levi watches Eren’s face closely, and he can tell exactly when Eren gets it. It’s a small smile at first, one that only grows bigger when he finally turns and meets Levi’s eyes, and then the next thing that Levi knows, Eren’s wiping the tears away from his eyes with his sleeves, his cheeks pink from the laughter.

                Eren shifts in his seat, facing Levi now. His laughter’s died down - Levi hadn’t noticed it at first, but he’d been feeling a bit fonder inside than usual when he’d heard Eren’s giggling - and Eren sets his textbook down on the space between him and Levi. It’s a History textbook.

                “You wanna get started already?” Levi teases, “I didn’t even get the chance to offer you a drink or anything.”

                “I’m tired and I want to take a nap.” Eren says it in an almost comedic whine, making a show of it by yawning.

                “You can have a nap when we’re done, then.”

                “Or, you can go and get me a drink, but take like thirty minutes to do it. It’ll give me enough time to sleep.”

                “Do I look stupid to you?”

                “I- No-”

                “I’m not being serious, Eren. Wipe that stupid frown from your face.”

                Eren’s frown only grows deeper.

                “I mean it now, brat. I don’t give a shit about anybody else smiling, but _you_ better fucking smile for me. _Now._ ”

                _That_ earns a smile from Eren again. Levi wants to kiss the hell out of him.

                He doubts that there’s really any hell warring on inside of Eren, though. Eren’s his _angel._ His pure, beautiful, innocent angelic figure. Deserving of only kisses, and undeserving of the frown that had plagued his features a moment ago.

                “Open your textbook, Eren. Let’s get this shit started.”

                                                                                                             ~|~

                In the past few months - how long _has_ it been? Two months? Three? All Eren knows is that winter is coming to a close - Eren and Levi have grown _incredibly_ close. Or, at least, Eren’s grown incredibly close to _Levi._

Eren visits Levi’s house every weekend, and every weekend they spend maybe an hour studying while the rest of the time is occupied with Levi spitting out jokes and Eren giggling. Sometimes Levi will tell him a story, like how his uncle leaves every weekend to go out drinking, and Levi totally doesn’t mind him doing that anymore because it means that he gets his alone time with Eren. Eren’s not sure if he believes that Levi’s a hundred percent fine with the situation, but he keeps his mouth zipped about the situation, instead choosing to return Levi’s stories with his _own_ tales, like how he always used to be the princess when his friends and him would play their imaginary games in elementary school.

                He’s learned a lot about Levi. He knows his full name now, his aspirations, his friends - who he calls _acquaintances_ \- and, once, Levi touched his cheek with his thumb. It wasn’t much more than a stroke of his finger over Eren’s skin, but it made him feel _good._

Levi, too, must know a lot about Eren by now. Eren’s told him things he wouldn’t tell anyone else, and while Levi hasn’t been told about Eren’s occasional - _often_ \- depressing thoughts and actions, Levi _has_ to have picked up on at least _something._ Something that could give away the fact that Eren wants to die, without Eren having to directly say it.

                Or, maybe Levi _hasn’t_ picked up on anything. Eren can’t blame him. His own _mother_ doesn’t seem to have noticed anything.

                Eren sits by Levi, as is the usual now. His head rests on Levi’s shoulder. He started doing that only a few weeks after they started their tutoring together, but it’d been mostly unintentional because Eren was sleepy and his head betrayed him by making him fall asleep on Levi. Now, it’s almost a regular occurrence for Eren to rest on Levi.

                There’s a textbook situated on Levi’s lap, and he points down at the book, murmuring something to Eren that Eren doesn’t understand. Eren doesn’t understand, but he doesn’t say anything, not wanting to interrupt Levi in his teaching. Eren’s grown fond to listening to Levi speak, and Eren’s found that now the only time he ever gives off true smiles is when he’s around _Levi._ It hurts to think such a thing, but he can’t help himself. Once he’s away from Levi, he’s suddenly reminded of the Hell that is his life, and his bad habits tell Eren that they want attention via burning wrists and a churning stomach.

                Eren’s weak. _Pathetic,_ ugly, useless, and lost, he’s an _idiot_ who can’t help himself. He can’t stop his fingers from grabbing for his blades, and he can’t stop his legs from taking him into the bathroom right after dinner. Even knowing that there’s Levi now who Eren has to try to live up to the expectations of, it’s not reassuring. In fact, it’s the opposite, and sometimes he’s crying over what a disappointment he’ll be when Levi finds out that Eren hasn’t been listening to a single thing that he’s tried to teach him in their tutoring sessions.

                What hurts the most is that Eren has _feelings_ for Levi now. He has thoughts of himself kissing Levi, and he has thoughts of Levi’s hands on his hips, a more _beautiful_ Eren under Levi’s fingertips. He dreams of cuddling with him, Levi’s strong arms over his chest, and he takes pleasure in being so close to Levi _now,_ nose dug into Levi’s collar, inhaling the faint smell of what seems to be Windex.

                Eren doesn’t want to have feelings for Levi. If Levi found out, he’d write Eren off as a _failure._ A brat like Eren isn’t supposed to fall for Levi. He’s supposed to be _learning_ for him. Not lusting after him.

                Eren’s already a disappointment to his parents. He can’t handle being a disappointment to Levi, too, his first close relationship in so long.

                “Eren?”

                “Mm?”

                “Are you listening to me? Or are you falling asleep?”

                “I’m listening.”

                “What did I just tell you then?”

                “You asked if I was falling asleep.”

                “Before that.”

                “You said my name.”

                Levi lets out a soft groan. He shifts, one arm going over Eren’s shoulders, and Eren leans back into him, eyeing the side of his face.

                A moment passes of silence. It’s just Eren staring up at Levi, breathing against his cheek, and Levi squeezing Eren’s shoulders, staring down at Eren’s textbook with a blank expression.

                Then, Levi speaks up again. “Eren?”

                “Mm?”

                “Are you doing anything tonight?”

                “Besides sleeping, probably nothing.”

                “Spend the night with me, then.”

                Eren’s face feels warm after hearing those words. He scrambles back, sitting up and looking down at Levi’s face now. Levi looks back at him, eyes unfeeling. The arm that was over Eren’s back falls now, and he uses it to close Eren’s textbook and toss it onto the table situated in front of the couch.

                “Like- Like-”

                “It’ll be like a sleepover. But if you hit me with a pillow, I’ll fucking hit you with a baseball bat.”

                “You _wouldn’t._ ”

                “In my head, I would.”

                “Why do you want me to sleep over?”

                “Do I really need a reason?”

                “Well, no, but- I-”

                “Here’s a reason. You’re fucking cute when you sleep.”

                Eren’s face feels like he’s been lit on fire. Levi’s never directly called him cute before, so to even hear just the word come from Levi’s mouth, painted by his deep voice, Eren can feel his heart skip a beat or two. He swallows roughly before responding.

                “I’m- I’m cute?”

                “‘Course you are. So are you staying, or not?”

                “Ah- Yeah, I’ll stay.”

                That night, Eren only excuses himself from Levi _once_ , and it’s to throw back up the snacks that Levi offered him to eat. It’s done out of a force of habit, and the overwhelming thought that occurs as he eats that Levi would be disappointed in Eren if Eren gained weight and ruined that cute appearance that Levi thinks he has.

                                                                                                             ~|~

                Levi has no doubts about wanting to date Eren.

                Eren sits on the other side of the Chemistry classroom, hands fumbling with his books as he gathers everything and prepares to leave. The bell to switch classes is about to go off, and Levi’s ready. He has the perfect thing in mind to say to Eren.

                Their tutoring sessions have been going _incredibly_ well, in Levi’s mind. They sit together every weekend, they talk, and sometimes he has Eren recite facts back to him or do little equations for him. Eren’s smart. _Really_ smart. He understands what Levi tells him, and Levi rarely has to repeat himself. He doesn’t understand why Eren’s in tutoring, besides what Eren’s told him, which is that _‘he’s stupid.’_ That’s not true at all, though.

                Levi suspects that Eren just doesn’t do the work he needs to for his classes. He doesn’t know for sure, but he _suspects._

He likes Eren. He’s a little concerned about him, but he likes him. He’s concerned over Eren’s thin body, and how he tries so hard to hide it behind sweaters, and he’s concerned over Eren’s shaky fingers when points something out to Levi, and he’s concerned over Eren’s constantly sad face. Whenever Levi doesn’t directly make an effort to get him to smile, Eren’s _frowning._ Levi hates his frown.

                Eren’s never actually cried sad tears in front of Levi. They’ve all been tears formed in his laughter. Levi has a feeling that, if Eren _did_ start crying in front of him for any other reason than happiness, it’d break Levi’s heart. Of course it would. Eren’s an angel. A crying angel is the equivalent of the sun crashing into the Earth. There’s just no point in continuing, knowing that a sweet soul is tainted with any sort of pain.

                Suddenly, the bell rings, and Levi hurries out of his seat to meet up with Eren. Eren’s eyes find his before Levi’s even by him, and Levi can’t help the smirk that forms on his lips as he’s now in front of Eren. Eren stands with his books held tightly to his stomach.

                “Oi, Eren.”

                “Yeah?”

                “Do you have the time? I’d check my watch, but I can’t take my eyes off of you.”

                Eren blinks. His eyebrows furrow together, cheeks betraying just a _hint_ of pink.

                So Levi tries again.

                “Did you know, Eren, that your body is made up of around sixty percent of water? And now I’m thirsty.”

                Eren bites his lip. “Are you- Erm-”

                “Yes?”

                “Are- Are, uh- Nevermind. Let’s go.”

                “No, what were you going to ask?”

                “It’s nothing.”

                “When I last saw you, Eren, I looked for a signature on you. All masterpieces have one on them.”

                Eren’s face is red now. “Are you flirting with me?”

                “Bingo.”

                “You’re- _What?_ ”

                “ _Damn it,_ Eren." Levi tries to keep his face soft, even though his muscles want to settle into a stare of frustration. "I want you to be my boyfriend.”

                Eren looks a little surprised. He tightens his hold on his books, a smile forming over his face. Levi has yet to get over the flutter in his chest when Eren grins, and Levi has to will all of his energy together to keep himself from kissing Eren right then and there in the Chemistry classroom.

                “I’ll be your boyfriend, Levi.”

                Eren’s precious. The weather outside is getting warmer, but he still dresses like he’s in the heart of winter. Levi wants to ask him if he’s okay, because while Eren acts fine around Levi, there are still things he doesn’t understand. The tears, the oddly thin body, the way he holds his books to his body so closely, the fucking _clothing,_ it all begs for Levi to ask him if he’s truly okay.

                But Levi doesn’t ask. Instead, he just wraps an arm over Eren’s waist - who almost shoves him away, but then stops himself - and he walks Eren out into the hallway, going towards their next classes.

                                                                                                             ~|~

                Their kissing is rushed, it’s hurried, it’s sloppy, and it’s more drool than anything else.

                Levi had asked Eren to be his boyfriend on a Wednesday, and so now that it’s the following Saturday, both of them are more preoccupied with touching each other than studying. Or, rather, _kissing_ each other - Eren won’t let Levi touch him. Levi’s allowed to touch his face, but every time he feels a hand grab at his thigh or at his ass, he shoves Levi away.

                Eren likes Levi. But being with him makes him so _insecure._ The last few days, he’s gone home, and on top of crying over being a failure to his mother and father, he’s found himself tearing up over the thought that maybe Levi’s only with him because he pities him. Eren hopes, with all his heart, that Levi’s affection for Eren is genuine, but what if it’s _not?_ What if Levi’s somehow figured out that Eren throws up his dinners, and that he cries himself to sleep despite how much Levi’s brightened up his life? Eren doesn’t want a boyfriend who’s only with him out of fear that Eren might kill himself. Even though Levi’s in Eren’s life more prominently now, and even though he gives Eren a few moments of pure bliss each day, Eren’s mind never misses a chance to remind him that his suicide would make things easier on everyone around him.

                Eren lies on his back, pinned to Levi’s living room couch. Levi keeps him in place with hands on either side of Eren’s body, not directly touching him but close enough that Eren can’t escape. Their lips press tightly together, their tongues fighting even though Levi easily wins each tussle. Eren moans when Levi tastes the inside of his mouth, and he gasps when Levi’s tongue brushes over him. His back arches against his own will, molding against Levi’s stomach. It’s uncomfortable, feeling each and every one of Levi’s abs against his ribs, and Eren’s amazed that Levi still wants to kiss him. Eren’s mouth has been tainted by hours of vomiting, and no matter how much he brushes his teeth, there’s just no way he could rid himself of the sour taste.

                Perhaps Levi just likes him that much. Enough so that Eren’s gross breath doesn’t matter to him.

                Eren snakes a hand around Levi’s neck, his fingers brushing over his undercut. Levi tries to touch Eren’s waist, but Eren shoos his hand away.

                The weekends are Eren’s escape now. Occasionally, Levi makes him eat a snack or two, but most of the time, Eren’s able to distract Levi for long enough to be able to go the whole day without eating. Then, on Sundays, if he’s not still with Levi, he’ll pretend to sleep in all day, therefore skipping all his meals. His mother rarely interrupts his naps, which makes Eren feels rather lucky in that area.

                Eren only eats to make other people happy. That’s all he ever does anymore. Everything he does, it’s for the pleasure of another person. Eating doesn’t make him happy, it makes everyone _else_ happy. Good grades don’t matter to Eren. They matter to his _parents._ And this, this whole _dating_ thing, as much as Eren likes Levi, most of this is to keep Levi happy.

                Levi breaks their kiss, allowing them a chance at air. Eren feels Levi’s lips on his cheek now, peppering him with quick touches over and over again before finally moving back to his mouth and resuming their session. Another hand at Eren’s waist, and Eren swats him away.

                Eren was a perfectly normal weight when he started throwing up his meals. It wasn’t until he started _skipping_ meals that he changed, messing with his stomach by going one day without any feed and then the next with a hefty dinner, back and forth, over and over again.

                Eren feels like he’s fucked himself up. He has no hope left for himself. He’s been taken over by his need to purge and his need to cut, he’s become little more than wet pillows and broken sobs during the night hours, and a pathetic excuse for a son and lover during day hours.

                He just hopes that Levi doesn’t truly like him. It scares him, the thought that Levi’s only with him because he pities him, but it’s easier to swallow. That, and it’d be easier on Levi when Eren, inevitably, reaches his breaking point.

                Levi breaks the kiss again, the word _“Eren”_ slipping out of his mouth as he moves down to Eren’s ear. His teeth graze the skin before stopping, and he sucks just beneath his lobe. The room smells so much like Levi that it almost hurts his lungs, but when Levi’s hand tries to reach for Eren’s waist again, Eren still pushes him away.

                “Eren?”

                Levi pulls back, hovering above Eren. Their eyes meet, Levi’s clouded over with something that Eren fears is want, and Eren’s body feels uncomfortably flushed.

                “Yeah?”

                “You’re beautiful, Eren. Why won’t you let me touch you?”

                Eren can’t give Levi an answer. He knows why he doesn’t want to be touched - it’s the fear of Levi finding out all his secrets, the fear of Levi hating him once he feels his scars, the fear of being ostracized even further for being pathetic, ugly, useless, and lost.

                Eren _can,_ however, give Levi a compromise. A compromise that would shut him up, no further questions asked.

                “You can touch me,” Eren says, “If you turn off all of the lights in here.”

                It’s a stupid compromise, but the most it could do is make Levi _curious._ In the dark, Levi could have no solid evidence of Eren’s issues, and all he can do is _feel._ The scars, the bones, Eren can shrug those both off and say that Levi’s crazy. Levi might even believe it, too, because he wouldn’t have actually _seen_ the scars and bones.

                Instead of doing his schoolwork, this is what Eren does. Contemplates how he’d deal with scenarios like _this_ one, scenarios that involve his self-loathing issues.

                Levi leaves Eren, and he counts down the seconds in his head. The lights in the room go off, and he feels Levi climb back on top of him. Levi’s hands move under Eren’s shirt, and soon enough, Eren’s topless. His body is pinned down by Levi, who kisses up and down his chest, dominating every single moment of their dance. Eren can pinpoint each moment where Levi hesitates, from where he first grabs onto Eren’s arm, to where he first slips himself inside Eren. It’s the moments of hesitation that have Eren regretting doing this with him, and it isn’t until they're both finished that Eren starts crying, his face turned away from Levi while Levi lies on the couch beside him, breathing heavily.

                What he’s done with Levi is the ultimate crime against his mother. All Eren’s life, she’s enforced the idea of abstinence, and all Eren’s life, she’s hoped that Eren would wait until he’s happily married before losing his virginity. To do it so young, and to do it with a _man,_ Eren’s just betrayed his mother yet again.

                When Levi falls asleep, Eren gets up and dresses himself once more. The urge to slice open his wrists is strong, but because he’s in Levi’s house, he refrains from doing so. Instead, the rest of his night with Levi is filled with him wondering if he could ever make this up to his mother, and then realizing that he can’t. He’s a disappointment.

                Pathetic, ugly, useless, lost, and a _disappointment._

                                                                                                             ~|~

                The morning after, Levi’s confused.

                The night before, making love with Eren felt so sweet. The sensation of having Eren beneath him, twisting and turning with each kiss and each thrust, he felt like he was finally giving his angel what he needed. But then, there were things about Eren that he didn’t understand. The skin on different parts of him, it wasn’t the smooth flesh he’d expected, and there were parts of him that felt a little _too_ thin. He’s always known Eren to be thin, but the thinness isn’t in his face, and his body is constantly hidden beneath heavy sweaters. So to feel the sharp jut of  _bones_ underneath his touch, it worries Levi.

                Eren’s on Levi’s bed, and Levi’s fingers thread through Eren’s hair. Eren’s peering down at his Chemistry textbook, studying over what Levi told him to read. Eren seems absorbed in the words on the page, and when Levi’s hand slides down to feel Eren’s spine, Eren doesn’t push him off.

                There’s definitely something off about him. The thinness, the frowns, the uneven skin, the tears, they’re all making Levi fear the worst. He has his suspicions, but hell if he hopes that they aren’t anywhere near the truth.

                “Eren?”

                “Hah?”

                “I think you and I need to have a talk.”

                “About what?” Eren looks up at Levi now, his green eyes making Levi damn near melt.

                “It’s about last night.”

                Eren sits up slowly, looking a little uncomfortable. Then, he says, “Actually, Levi, I think I need to be getting home right now.”

                “What?”

                “Yeah- Yeah, my mom said she wanted me home early today. We’re- We’re having company over, I think. Maybe.”

                “I don’t-”

                Eren stands up from the bed, grabbing up his textbook. “We can talk about this later.”

                “Wait, Eren-”

                “I’ll miss you, Levi.”

                “I’ll miss you, too, Eren, but-”

                “I love you.”

                Levi’s still sitting on his bed, with Eren across the room, at the doorway. Eren waits, expectantly.

                “I- What the hell, Eren? Why are you in such a damned rush all of a sudde-”

                Eren doesn't wait. He departs, slamming Levi’s bedroom door shut behind him. His face was almost apprehensive the whole time, a flush over his cheeks, but it was hard to tell for sure from the distance.

                Levi can’t help but feel like he fucked something up. Maybe it was the furrow of Eren's eyebrows when he said _"I love you,"_ but something about the way that Eren left makes Levi feel _incredibly_ off. Almost like he needs to chase after him.

                It’ll be okay, though. He’ll make it up to Eren tomorrow, on Monday, when he sees him in Chemistry class again. He’ll just have to find the perfect joke to make Eren smile in the next few hours that he has. Making Eren laugh is his highest priority.

                Eren's his special angel. Levi doesn't think that Eren could ever disappoint him. No matter what.

                                                                                                             ~|~

                Eren feels incomplete.

                He feels more alone now than he did just months ago, before he ever even signed up for a tutor and wound up getting a _boyfriend_ out of it.

                For one, nobody seems to know that he’s suffering. Even after making love with Levi, the guy who’s supposedly super smart, Eren has nobody who knows about his issues. He has nobody to turn to for help, because he's too afraid to admit his problems to someone out loud. He's lived this long with the clinging hope that he'll be noticed by _someone_ , but so much time has passed, Eren doesn't know why he's still trying anymore.

                He can't tell his parents what's wrong, because they'll overreact. They'll send him to that therapist that he thinks about so often, and then he'll be living out the nightmare of seeing his mother cry over him. And he can't tell Levi, because what if Levi hates him for it? What if Levi's attitude towards him completely changes? Eren can't handle that.

                Eren’s not sure if he can take it any longer. He can’t take the thoughts of _everything,_ hitting him all at once, hitting him with memories of the things he’s done in the past, the things he’s doing now, the things that could happen in the future, and everything in-between. _It’s too much._

                Eren can’t put it off any longer. If he lives another day, all he’ll do is further himself as a disappointment. Perhaps it’ll be with Levi, through admitting to him that he cuts and tries to starve himself. Perhaps it’ll be with his mother, through admitting to giving his body up to a man who he’s just started dating. Perhaps it’ll be with his father, through him finding out that Eren’s grades really haven’t gone so far up since he started going to tutoring.

                Eren’s a failure. No matter what, he commits one mistake after the other. Levi walking into his life only worsened that.

                Today, Eren hasn’t had a single bite to eat. Yesterday, he didn’t either. A few days ago, he skipped dinner with the excuse of feeling ill.

                He’s conflicted. Starving makes him feel like shit, but throwing up _also_ makes him feel like shit. Cutting makes him feel like shit, and really, his entire _essence_ is shit. So why did it take him nearly seventeen years to realize how worthless he is? He could’ve saved his parents the pain by killing himself earlier, but no, he had to wait until _now_ to discover that he’s pathetic. And ugly. And useless. And lost. And a _disappointment._

                He didn’t lie to his lover, though. He _will_ miss Levi. He’d write him a letter, but why put him through that? His parents, too, why force them to read his last goodbyes on a sheet of paper? If Eren can’t bring himself to say it verbally, than he has no place to say it in writing.

                Eren thinks he would’ve killed himself earlier, if it hadn’t been for Levi coming into his life and making him smile with his jokes. But all Levi’s done is prolong the conclusion to Eren’s life, not prevent it from happening.

                On the bright side, Levi only knew Eren for maybe a year of his life. His death won’t affect him too deeply.

                Levi, once he gets over Eren's death, will move on. He'll find a new lover. This time, perhaps he'll find a lover who won't waste his time, like Eren feels he has. Eren's grown so close to Levi, only to end up dying at the climax of their relationship, and he feels regretful for doing that to Levi. But Eren can't live like this any longer, and his regret for Levi is just one more regret to add to the millions of other regrets that he harbors inside his dying body. 

                Eren’s parents, he fears for their reaction. But they can replace Eren. They can have another baby, maybe a baby who will grow up and meet their expectations, be the little genius they’ve always wanted. The little genius that Eren never was. A little genius, carved out of the stone of his mother's and his father's expectations for him, a child who would live up to the rough guidelines set before them.

                It's not like his even suicide matters. Eren was going to end up crushing his parents _eventually._ Whether it be now with his death or later with his grades, he was going to crush them. But Eren can put them through the pain of being crushed _now_ and save them the heartache _later._

                Eren’s fingers shake around the container that he holds. It’s bleach, and its smell is strong as Eren inhales whiff after whiff of it. He’d stolen it from the laundry room downstairs. The scent almost reminds him of Levi and his Windex aroma. 

                He can’t take it anymore. He can’t take the crying, the cutting, the starving, the thinking, the talking, the expectations, the fucking _everything._ He can’t handle this life.

                The cap to the bleach container is already off and set aside. All he has left to do is drink.

                He moves the top of the bottle up to his lips. He takes a deep breath before throwing his head back, his throat burning as he ingests gulp after gulp. He can feel the liquid filling back up in his throat, and he has to stop a few times to throw up, but he can’t give up. He’ll drink the entire container if he has to. Eren's already used to throwing up, what's the difference if it just _burns_ this time?

                Eventually, though, he stops drinking. He stops thinking. He stops breathing. The container falls to the floor, and the last thing Eren remembers is something about a general and where he keeps his armies.

**Author's Note:**

> whoops...
> 
> fic inspired by [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7mkePUgLO5U) and title inspired by [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ReM8tVQiK4M) <3


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